Today I woke up on a planet I don't remember.
The cockpit display in my spacecraft says my name is Key-Glyph. I don't remember that, either.
I was surprised that I didn't feel afraid. Maybe when the baggage of your own identity is gone, all that's left is pure reaction to the moment. So, while the snow continued falling around my cozy ship -- the Yakomaku S79, my display informs me -- my first instinct was to spend time reading through every documentation file available in its databanks. It's comforting to know I ingrained these sorts of practical behaviors in my previous life, considering the current circumstances.
The planet appears to know its own name, however. Pabackyermi. Or, maybe this is just gibberish ascribed by my scanner. Either way, I like. If it has its own name, then perhaps there are inhabitants here, and there could be a chance I'll be found. If not, then the planet got its designation the same way I did -- random, contextless chance -- and we're already partners in our confusion.
And maybe it's another symptom of the loss of self, to feel awe at surroundings that clearly spell your own death, but this planet is breathtaking. Even before I understood the workings of my suit's thermal shield I was stopping in the frost, lost in observance of the three or four large, low-hanging planets in the sky, one with its own distinct and easily visible moon. Was I an explorer out here? The way I feel when I look out at those planets makes me wonder.
Survival did not come easy. With nothing but basic documentation, built-in notification systems, one small blaster, and a tiny heated cockpit, I lived. I realized too late that I should have been tracking the days, but ultimately it doesn't matter. I will label these journal entries by installment instead, and this will be Survival 00.
My life continues.
It is night now, and still snowing. The light storm feels comforting from inside the Yakomaku. (Another familiarity ingrained during my previous life, perhaps?) Cave by cave and mistake by mistake I have repaired this ship... but where was I going? Or, what purpose of mine was here? For all the journaling I'm doing now, no previous personal logs exist in any of these databanks. Nothing remains but my name.
I'm not ready to leave yet. I should say it's because I want Pabackyermi to be a training ground to continue preparing me for whatever else is ahead, but the actual truth is that I just want to see more of the planet. Being completely alone means having nothing but your own pace to follow; I'm enjoying it here, and I'm simply not done.
-- End Log --